


Guardian (Princess) of the Forest

by windscryer



Series: Maja's Fluff VLD Week 2017 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Flower Crowns, Gen, Lance and Hunk save the day, Paladin Aesthetic™, Pidge is a Pretty Pretty Princess, Pidge likes girly things, Platonic Garrison Trio, Voltron Fluff Week 2017, and be happy dammit, but it's not sad, fashion emergency, idk if it's fluffy exactly, like the first 57 drafts, no one cried okay this is a big deal, playing with hair, so we're gonna take it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 13:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10595169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windscryer/pseuds/windscryer
Summary: Pidge doesn't regret anything that led her to this place in her life. She couldn't have planned it better if she'd tried.Well, there isonething she regrets.





	

Pidge dropped the brush on the table and buried her face in her hands.

This was ridiculous.

She’d only been pretending to be a boy for a year. Not even a full one, technically.

How could she have forgotten everything from her life before that?

She lifted her head enough to peek over her fingers at the unruly mess on top of her head and groaned again, this time letting her head hit the tabletop with a thunk. She lifted it and dropped it again a few more times just in case that jogged something loose.

“Pidge?” A knock at the door followed Hunk’s call and she sighed, but didn’t lift her head.

“I’m decent, you can come in.”

The door opened and she heard him enter and cross the floor of the room she’d been assigned. As distinguished visitors they’d all been offered rooms in the palace for the duration of the alliance talks.

Keith had opted to stay behind in the Castle since it wasn’t that far away (especially by Lion) and Pidge wasn’t sure Shiro, Allura, and Coran were actually stopping to sleep each night, busy as they were meeting with various representatives of the Triktriktan monarchy’s court. She had taken one look at the room pulled straight out of a fairytale, though, and decided that she was going to enjoy the perks of a military career she hadn’t ever meant to sign up for. Lance had agreed with her without hesitation and Hunk had only put up a token protest that no one actually believed.

Last night she’d slept in a bed that might have more fluff than a plushie factory; this morning she’d dined on ridiculously fancy foods she couldn’t recognize but were _delicious_ (except the fruit salad thing with the green nuts that didn’t look like peanuts but definitely tasted like them eugh); and now she was getting ready for an actual facts _ball_ being held in their honor. She even had a dress that looked like it was possibly made of fairy dust, moonbeams, and children’s laughter. There was a cape with a brooch.

_Her shoes sparkled and they had six inch heels._

The only problem was her. Specifically, her hair.

Cutting it short hadn’t been her favorite part of her disguise, but she couldn’t deny that it had been effective. And it was definitely easier to take care of day-to-day than longer hair.

It was just useless for styling other than “run a comb through it, hope for the best, and remember that you’re supposed to be a teenage boy so it’s _meant_ to look like a mess”. Eventually it would grow out, but at the rate her hair grew it might be grey when it finally did.

Until then she was going to miss her one chance to look like an actual Disney Princess in an actual Disney Princess Movie setting and that was just _so_ unfair.

She growled and slammed a fist down on the table.

“Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?” Hunk asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“The universe hates me. I did something awful in another life and this is my penance. I’m actually the villain of my story, not the heroine, and this is how Life is letting me know. Take your pick.”

“Uh, okay, so that… sounds bad. Um. Is there any particular reason you’ve come to this conclusion?” he asked hesitantly.

She sat up and turned on the stool—which had a _puffy, silk brocade cover_ , honestly, how was she not supposed to feel like a princess?—and gestured at her head.

He gave her a look over, then a second, squinting more, then finally shook his head. “I’m not seeing it. Is it a zit or something? I’m sure no one will notice, I mean, they all have super bumpy scaly skin, they’ll probably think it’s a sign of good health or something—”

“It not a zit, Hunk! It’s my hair! It’s… short. And dumb. And—” she waved her hands for emphasis, “—useless! UGH.”

He stared at her for a few seconds longer, then said, “Ohhhhh. Okay. Uh. No, wait, we can fix this.”

“We can?” she said in a deadpan voice. Because she had a lot of faith in Hunk, but she didn’t think that hairstyling was in his repertoire.

His jaw firmed and he straightened up, his shoulders filling out his tailored suit nicely when he had good posture, and nodded.

Oh my god, even he looked like a Disney Prince and he still had his lucky bandana on. It had clearly been washed and his hair had been styled more than usual, but still. That was just… _so unfair_.

“We can,” he said. “You stay here and… try not to panic. I’ll be back.”

“The party’s in an hour!” she called as he stepped into the hallway.

“ _I’ll be back!”_ he repeated and shut the door with a final clunk.

She stared at the door for a long moment, then turned to look at the mirror again.

Propping her chin on her hands, she sighed.

* * *

 

“Come on, stay in— STAY IN!” she snarled, but the Triktriktan version of a bobby pin slipped between her fingers and flew off, pinging off the mirror and vanishing into the thick carpet behind her.

That was going to be fun to find with her foot later on.

The rest of her hair drooped and then collapsed, more bobby pins landing on the vanity top with a clatter like rain.

There was a brisk knock and then Lance called, “Pidge! Open up! I have come to save the day!”

She rolled her eyes, but stood and went to yank the door open.

“Unless you have a bunch of hair extensions in my shade, I don’t want to hear it.”

Lance waved her off and pushed her back inside, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her back to the vanity.

“Have a seat,” he said, but the pressure on her shoulders made it less of an invitation and more of an order. He spun her around so she was facing him and took a half step back, stroking his chin like a Bond villain as he gave her head a scrutinizing glare.

She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “Look, just help me make it look less like I lick batteries for fun and I won’t steal any of your cookies for a week. Deal?”

He snorted and moved back in, reaching past her to grab the brush as he pulled her rolling chair away from the vanity and stepped behind her.

“You don’t even know where I keep my cookies—”

“The third drawer down on the left in your bathroom behind your face mask ingredients. It’s not even that hard to find,” she interrupted. “If you don’t want people to eat them you have to at least _pretend_ like you were trying to hide them, otherwise it’s an invitation.”

His hands stilled and she could practically feel him glowering down at her. When he started brushing again, though, the strokes were still gentle and even.

“I have enough gel to make it look like Ursula was my inspiration—and not her hair, either, you feel me?—but it’s your choice.”

She sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Whatever. I still have to do my makeup. Just…” Her shoulders slumped. “Do something. Anything has to be better than,” she waved a hand, “ _au naturel_.”

“Mmm,” Lance hummed.

He brushed and swept hair this way and that, adding bobby pins after a few minutes when he seemed to have settled on a style.

The sounds of the palace staff setting up in the courtyard their rooms overlooked drifted through the open windows and after a few minutes of that white noise and the soothing motions of her hair being played with she realized the tension was seeping out of her shoulders.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total disaster. Lance did seem to know what he was doing. And it was nice of him to offer to help either way.

She realized that part of her annoyance with him was that he wasn’t who she’d been expecting and she said, “Hey, where’s Hunk?”

“Hm? Oh, he’s on a special mission. He’ll be here soon.”

That made her frown at her bed, but she managed to keep from turning her head to look Lance in the eye and demand what that meant. Damn him for facing her away from the mirror. She couldn’t glare at him like this.

Another ten minutes passed and she was honestly curious as to what he was doing back there still. She’d felt him twisting things and braiding small sections and smoothing others up and around in a way that she could only picture as not making any sense at all. Occasionally he sprayed the setting mist or added more bobby pins, and bit by bit he worked his way around her head.

“I got it!” Hunk said, bursting through the door. She glanced over, but didn’t make it the whole way before Lance’s hands on her jaw set her back in place.

“No moving. I’m almost done.”

She sighed, but stayed where she was, straining her eyes to try and see Hunk. He was just outside of her range and then he moved back to join Lance and she had no hope.

“Oh, dude, that looks great!”

“Thanks, Hunk,” Lance said, genuinely pleased by the compliment.

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Pidge put in through gritted teeth. “How close is ‘almost done’?” The sound of some instrument being warmed up came in through the windows and she glanced over, curling her fingers around the edges of the stool.

It sounded like guests had begun to arrive downstairs and she was running out of time. She still had to do makeup and get into her dress.

“Very, very close,” Lance said slowly, distracted. “Hunk?”

“Yeah, I got you. Here?” A broad finger pressed against her skull and she had to firm her neck to keep from being pushed over.

“Not so hard— There. Perfect! Now hold it for just a second...”

Three more pins slid along her skull and then there was a tug and a clasping sound.

“How’s that look?” Lance asked.

“Incredible, man. Now this?” Hunk said.

“Now this,” Lance agreed and after a moment she felt a weight descend on her head.

She looked up and saw greenery and a few white petals. “Is that a flower crown?”

“It sure is,” Lance said, sounding proud. “Hunk made it himself.”

“You know how to make flower crowns?”

Lance snorted and Hunk laughed. “I dare anyone to spend two weeks with Lance’s family and _not_ learn how to make them. His sisters can be _relentless_. But it’s proving to be a surprisingly useful skill, so I’m not going to complain.”

“Can I see it yet?” she asked, feeling a thrill of hope again. Flower crowns might not be a tiara, but it definitely had a Disney Princess vibe to it. She could work with this.

“Not unless you want it to fall off when your dashing dance partner twirls you, hold still one more sec.”

She bit her lip, staring at the ceiling as she tracked his progress around her head fitting bobby pins in to secure it in place.

“And… there! Done!”

The world spun as she did and then she was facing the mirror again and—

“Oh my god,” she breathed. Bright green foliage, interspersed with tiny bright yellow clusters of berries, framed large white blooms dense with petals that were edged in silver streaks. She turned her head this way and that and saw that Lance had managed to make her hair look like a lacy tangle of vines with little tufts of hair fanned out like fronds of a fern or dandelion puffs.

She slapped her hand over her mouth when she felt the giggle bubble up but didn’t quite stifle it in time.

Lance beamed at her reaction and slung an arm over Hunk’s shoulder. “I think we did good.”

“You did,” she blurted out. “You absolutely did.” Her hand drifted up, but she stopped before she touched it and ruined something. “It’s gorgeous!”

She spun around and tackled him with a hug, then reached out and dragged Hunk into it as best she could. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Lance patted her back and when she looked up he and Hunk were both grinning.

“You’re representing Earth, and follow one hell of a legacy. We had to make Princess Leia proud, right?” he said with a smirk.

Hunk’s laughter rang out at that. “It’s not cinnamon buns, but I think we definitely did good by that metric.”

She slapped Lance’s arm, but she was laughing too. Ugh, and crying she realized, wrinkling her nose and wiping at her face. Thank god she hadn’t done makeup yet.

_Makeup!_

“Okay,” she said, herding them toward the door. “Out. I have to do makeup and get dressed. Go on. Is Keith here yet? You should make sure he’s not trying to skip again or Allura’s gonna skin him alive.”

“Might be an improvement,” Lance joked, but he also said, “Ow!” when she slapped him.

She pointed a finger and her best stern look on him. “Be nice or I’ll spread a rumor you like farting on people. Oh, _wait_ , that’s not exactly false, is it?”

“Dirty pool, Gunderson,” Lance retorted, tugging on his lapels and trying to recover his dignity. “And how do you know they don’t _like_ that here? Aliens, sweetheart, all the rules can change.”

She gave him a toothy grin and arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure I can find _something_ they don’t like without having to make anything up. Hunk, you’re on surveillance.”

“Gotcha,” Hunk said, saluting, and ignoring the wounded sound Lance made as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him out the door. “See you soon!”

Pidge shut the door behind them and hurried back to the vanity, pulling out the little bag of cosmetics she and Allura had bought on their last Girls’ Day shopping trip.

Operation: Disney Princess was back on and she had to bring her A-game.


End file.
